


Pieces

by Flailingkittylover



Series: Family [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aruani children, F/M, Mikasa POV, Mikasa/Annie kinda-sorta friendship, Pining Eren Yeager, Post-Time Skip, Spoilers from Chapters 100+.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16679218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flailingkittylover/pseuds/Flailingkittylover
Summary: The war is starting, her world is fracturing, and Mikasa wonders if she will ever be whole again.





	Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This AU is set after the events in Chapter 105.
> 
> This was one of my first attempts at an “action” scene, so any feedback for improvement is appreciated lol. Enjoy!

Mikasa’s reflection stares back at her from the river below. The light rain falling from blackened clouds transforms into a harder downpour, speckling the water’s surface and wetting the soldier’s hair. Her fingers thread through her wet, black mop that’s snipped all the way up to her nape and runs a finger over the shaggy strands hanging over her eyes. She’s not used to this new haircut, but with the heightened agility of the new maneuver gear, long hair can’t be an obstacle.

 

The sadness in Mikasa’s eyes deepens. Long hair, a chin stubble, eyes as green as spring leaves now lifeless as they stare into hers; Eren has changed so much in their time apart. For so long she felt like a patch on a quilt ripped from her other halves, her exposed stitching left fraying as stresses of their world mounted.

 

Now a part of her soul rots in a cell, secluded and waiting for his punishment before they have a chance to understand _why_. He’s always left her and Armin in the dust, driven by a passion she admires, but this time...

 

A man falling into the river shatters Mikasa’s spotty reflection. Her back straightens out of her slouch when the man leaps up out of the water, two soldiers promptly sliding down the water canal to grab him from behind while the other struggles to shackle the thrashing man’s wrists. Mikasa’s eyes snapped around, scanning over the throng of protestors growing within the town square whose yells and chants grow louder. Police run haphazardly about in front of the stone bridge, building a C formation around the crowd to block them from storming the government operations district.

 

Paranoia and anger weren’t prevalent in only her, it seems. Supporters of Eren clamber up the large fountain in the middle of the square, preaching with the intensity of a religious zealot how the Founding Titan owner saved them, that his plight is a holy crusade in Eldia’s honor and has changed them from pawns to queens on the chessboard of the world. The anger of protestors grows and other civilians scatter while the rain downpours harder.

 

Mikasa’s throat closes. She should curse herself for not believing in Eren so faithfully, feels dirty for daring to question a motive from her family. She’s tormented by it every day.

 

She just needs to find and talk to him— _him._ Not the lifeless husk she fought alongside.

 

Among the clamor of screeches and hounding the police, Mikasa detects an urgent noise along the crowd’s border. She squints to inspect over the sea of heads then averts to finding threats toward the police human barricade when the voice is drowned out by the splatter of rain. A cord snaps in Mikasa just before a barrage of “ _Agh!”, “Fuck!”_ and _Gah! s_ are cried out. Her eyes dart back towards the border, finding bodies limp as corpses flying upwards and falling into the herd of protestors. Mikasa zeroes in on a beeline progressing through the crowd, identifies that their journey ends at the wall of police, then charges into the mob.

 

The elite of elites speed easily matches the figure weaving through the crowd, ganging up on them quickly as Mikasa side-steps a large man propelled backwards, socks an iron-hard fist into a man who tries to grab her and all the pain she and the figure imposes adds howls from injury to the angry noises ringing out through the city. A body then leaps out of the sea of people as a lightning bolt cracks the sky in two, the light showing the Survey Corp emblem on their cloaked back.

 

Mikasa’s jaw steels; the last thing the Corps needs is another scandal. Right as her hand zooms forward, the figure disappears in a blip and springs high into the sky. Mikasa almost slips on a slick cobblestone while the Military Police stare dumbfoundedly at the figure jumping over their heads. Steel-toe boots land with a splash and darts over the bridge in time with Mikasa pushing past the wall of police.  

 

The figure turns a corner as police with rifles trickle in and Mikasa slips into a nearby alleyway to cut them off, jumping past toppled boxes and zigzagging within the narrow maze of cement streets until her attuned hearing detects quick splashes on pavement nearby. Time slows for her—her senses practically feeling her target’s heart beat through the walls—and with the adrenaline pulsing in the Ackerman’s leg muscles, she speeds forward in a flash so fast, the figure makes a strangled gasp when Mikasa grabs their green hood, tugging it back as hard as she would the reins of a panicking horse. The person staggers before planting their feet and bending forward, their body then twisting as a _whoosh_ races up from below. Mikasa catches a defenseless shin in the tight grip of her underarm, tugs the hood down and crosses her forearm across her body to strike back.

 

Black brows knit together, her forearm dropping. “Annie?”

 

The glare in steely, blue eyes eases then is rapidly blinked away. The two women hadn’t seen each other since before the assault and unlike her, Annie’s hair is a platinum-yellow waterfall that's tied in a loose ponytail falling down one shoulder. “Mikasa.” She answers in a bewildered tone.

 

The taller woman frowns, her arm’s grip on Annie’s leg tightening. “Armin vouches that you’re ready to be released into society and this is how you repay him? By assaulting civilians?”

 

“They didn’t exactly welcome me with open arms.” Annie answers pitilessly. “They attacked me first, so I responded in kind.”

 

The hard downturn of Mikasa’s lips doesn’t falter though she senses Annie isn’t lying. Someone as universally hated as her managed to rile up even the calmer civilians. The looming woman releases Annie’s leg—allowing it to fall and splash to the sopping floor—only to jerk back when a pale hand shoots forward. Her calloused hand catches Annie’s small wrist but the smaller woman manages to grab the lapel of Mikasa’s coat anyway.

 

“You know where the military doctors are.” Annie remarks, tendrils of wet hair sticking to her face. “Take me to one.”

 

The unimpressed Ackerman’s eyelids droop. “It’s rude to ask for something from people you haven’t seen in a long time.”

 

Annie’s hold on Mikasa’s lapel tightens. She ponders if violence will boil between them again—drags her foot to the side in preparation to move if so—only to have her suspicion paused. Annie’s hand is trembling.

 

“I don’t trust public doctors so it _has_ to be from the Corps. _Take me. To. One.”_

 

The cracking desperation in Annie’s demand unsettles Mikasa—towards her, Annie has never faltered on masking her vulnerable moods. The moment Mikasa’s lips part to respond, a feeble cough rings out beneath Annie’s rain gear. Another frail cough coupled with helpless noises prompts Mikasa to lift up the ridge of Annie’s cloak and look inside.

 

Dread closed around Mikasa’s heart. Armin said his daughter was born healthy, but rather, the pallid face of his month-old infant is covered in angry, red splotches and her flawless blond strands sweaty from a growing fever. The baby coughs weakly and Mikasa draws back, fear morphing into shock upon seeing Annie’s lower lip quiver helplessly under clenched teeth, her eyes shaking.

 

Mikasa removes Annie’s grip and tugs on her wrist, “Follow me.”

 

The two soldiers’ race through the rain-soaked streets until the spike-tipped gate of the government stronghold comes into view. Soldiers raise a brow towards Mikasa’s guest but wave her on and they dart through towards the building’s lower levels. When Mikasa points to a long-line of patients waiting by an infirmary, Annie sprints faster and kicks open the door.

 

The bearded man sitting before a shirtless man flinches. “What is the meaning of this?” He demands with a fierce downturn of his mustache. “Wait in line like everyone else!”

 

“This baby needs medical attention, _now_.” Annie states urgently. She walks in with Mikasa close on her heels. “I...I don’t know what’s wrong.”

 

Sympathy bleeds into his firm eyes though his resistance remains. “I understand the urgency but I don’t specialize in that. I can recommend another doctor a couple blocks from-.”

 

“ _No!”_ Annie barks.

 

Mikasa cocks an eyebrow, a gesture Annie detects from a side glance. Annie thickly swallows, holding the blanketed child closer to her chest, cringing like she’s in pain; Mikasa isn’t sure she’s ever had to beg before. “This is Armin Arlert’s daughter. You _have_ to help her... _please.”_

 

The doctor’s eyes widen a fraction, his sight gravitating to Mikasa who answers him with a steady nod. His forehead wrinkles before looking to his patient. “We’ll resume this later. Step outside for a moment.”

 

The man isn’t happy—shoots the two women with an irritated glare to voice as much—and Mikasa matches him with a stony frown of her own, the shade from her overhanging bangs accentuating her fierceness. The patient spits on the ground before walking out, Mikasa kicking the door shut behind him.

 

“Put her on the table.”

 

Annie carefully laid the blanketed child on the table, wincing once fully separated and waved away. When aged fingers unravel the polyester blankets, he exposes the fierce red patches on her stomach and arms and navigates his stethoscope from her small lungs to over her heart. When the instrument runs over a patch of irritated skin, the infant wails with an intensity that forces shards of glass to puncture Mikasa’s lungs with every controlled inhale. Annie’s hands cover her face then slides over her ears in the corner of Mikasa’s eye; she didn’t want to know how much more torturous this was for her.

 

“There there little one.” The grizzled doctor soothes. “You’ll be alright.” His eyes rise up to stare over the rim of his glasses. “You both should stay outside. And you.” He looks toward Annie. “You should get yourself checked.”

 

“I won’t leave.” Annie dismisses with an iron firmness on her tongue. “I don’t get sick”

 

“And I’ll take my chances.” Mikasa answers afterward while crossing her arms.

 

His uncertain smile wavers. “I do respect that, but leaving the room would give you time to alert the father, no? He should be here.”

 

Annie’s face isn’t visible when she shakes her head. “He took our son camping for a couple of days. They...won’t be back ‘till later tonight.”

 

Mikasa is surprised when a sympathetic lance pierces her heart. Armin was her greatest moral support since Eren’s betrayal and he had taken on the task of supporting two emotionally vulnerable women at odds with each other. Without him or her son close by, Annie must be feeling as lost as her.  

 

Annie’s forearms form a tight X over her chest, biting her thumbnail all the while. Her daughter’s hiccups become bawls and Mikasa hears that her breathing is becoming shaky. The awkward Ackerman shuffles her feet, bouncing ideas in her brain.

 

“What’s her name?” Mikasa inquires.

 

Annie’s eyes dart to Mikasa before swerving back to the sniveling baby. “You know her name.”

 

“A lot has happened and Armin’s only mentioned her name in passing once. Was it Ava? Anka?”

 

 “Anya.”

 

Mikasa tilts her head back, staring at the ceiling as she ponders that. “I haven’t heard that name before. Is it common beyond the walls?”

 

“I don’t know. I liked it so I picked it.”

 

“Does it mean anything to you?”

 

Annie doesn’t respond then gives Mikasa a pointed look. “Why are you so curious?”

 

“Because this is the first time I’ve met her. She wasn’t born in a cell and kept under my constant guard like Andrew was.”

 

Murderous intent twinkles in Annie’s clear-blue eyes. Mikasa didn’t intend for it to look like a chance to jab at her—she was only stating the truth— but with the blond diverting her eyes, she knew Annie wouldn’t speak anymore. They observed in silence with Annie rebuilding her walled-off exterior and Mikasa had to admit, the suffocating silence and Annie’s stoic expression felt more comfortable than trying to distract her from fretting.

 

Annie continues to bite her thumbnail, nervous as is the doctor who visibly sweats under their scrutinizing gaze. He then pulls a book from a nearby bookshelf, flittering through the pages until he reaches his destination. A musing tune hums out of him. “I believe I have my diagnosis.” He announces. “I take it she has had a fever for the past day or so? Cold-like symptoms too?”

 

Annie nods and the doctor performs a nod of his own before picking out a bottle within a nearby cabinet. “Slapped-Cheek disease looks worse than it really is but the poor thing doesn’t know that. Must be hell to have her first cold so early.” He pours the bottle’s contents into his hands then paints purple lotion over the rashes littering Anya’s pink face and body, the baby making faces and fidgeting within the blankets the whole time. “The rash will fade but apply this daily.” He holds the bottle out to Annie. “Keep her well rested and fed and she’ll bounce back quick.”

 

The tension in Mikasa’s chest unfurls and she expels the air held in her lungs.

 

 _Thank goodness_. She thinks and Annie’s relieved sigh speaks.

 

Annie bows her head, thanking the doctor as he walks to the door. She then scoops the infant into her arms, curling into herself as she tightly snuggles the wiggling baby in the middle of her chest. She plants a long kiss in the middle of her forehead even as lotion smears her lips—rubs her nose against her young one’s small pointed one too—and Mikasa makes a face, straining to understand why she would rub away what’s soothing her daughter’s itching, especially as it gets everywhere on her own face.

 

A sudden itch scraping at Mikasa’s left temple acts like an informative whisper:  anger is bubbling outside the door—the once angry man who the doctor guides in now wearing a sneer and for once, Annie is too distracted by cooing to her child to notice. She trusts very few within this building and knows that while these men may respect Armin, Annie is seen as a wild card. If she leaves her now, Mikasa isn’t sure what fate’s next hand will bring her.

 

A hand clapping on Annie’s shoulder catches her attention. “Come on. I’ll escort you home.”

 

* * *

 

 

The carriage ride home is silent and awkward, made worse more so when Anya made hiccupped cries implying hunger. Mikasa pays attention to the dim-lighted streets of the military housing district while Annie closes the rims of her dry cloak and lets her daughter nurse.

 

Brick and mortar buildings line the streets where soldiers and their families sleep, where she and her comrades sleep. They pass by Jean’s quarters whose lights are off except for the kitchen light—perhaps his mother preparing him dinner—Connie’s house is dark with the exception of one bedroom bright with light, and Hitch’s is lively enough to have her neighbors walking by frown and shake their heads.

 

Eren’s house…

 

When they pass by it, the brick one-story is desolate, dark, and—Mikasa is sure—brimming with months’ worth of dust on the inside. The depressing shadows within the building and pouring rain seeps into her mood, lowers her chin to her chest, clenching her fists over her knees.  

 

“Here.” Annie knocks on the glass window. “Stop here.”

 

The carriage halts in front of a quaint two-story, its lush lawn littered with wet toys and a toppled tricycle; it’s a stark difference to the last time she was here when guards surrounded every inch of the home of a comrade’s heavily pregnant wife. When Annie hops down, Mikasa follows after—keeping an umbrella overhead to cover them both, even as Annie gives her a discomforted glance—and they walk up the stone path. After Annie succeeds in unlocking her door with one free hand, she pauses.

 

“You might as well come in.” She invites flatly, the green hood hiding her face. “You need to dry off and the boys will be happy to see you.”

 

Annie walks over the threshold, not waiting for an answer and Mikasa’s body thrums at the idea of a fire to thaw her solid-ice hands. Mikasa’s boots squeak and drip over the glossy wood floor of the hallway as she enters, drawing a disapproving frown from Annie. She opens a cabinet and throws a large towel and robe at Mikasa.

 

“Take off your boots and go dry off over there.” Annie orders as Mikasa catches the items with both hands. “Cleaning is a pain and I don’t need you adding more to the mess.”

 

Mikasa obeys rather than fights, not wanting to sully Armin’s property. She kicks off her shoes and removes her damp coat, leaving her in a white long-sleeve. She dries off her body then rubs the towel over her head, the robe resting over her shoulders as she walks through the corridor into the wide space of the living room. A fire roars in the brick fireplace with coloring pads strewn about on a rug sitting before it and a leather armchair sits close by with a tower of novels resting atop a side-table. The edges of Mikasa’s lips rise—she knows this is Armin’s spot.

 

“Sit down wherever.” Annie offers from the kitchen. Her cloak is gone and clothes are switched with a long, blue nightgown. “If you get bored, Armin has more books than we have room for.” She reaches over the sofa with her free arm—holding her daughter to her shoulder with the other—to hand her guest what looked and smelled like a steaming cup of tea.

 

The warmth breaks through the cold shield on her hands upon contact. Mikasa sits on the sofa next to Armin’s chair, holding the cup close while Annie goes back to burping her infant. She takes in everything about the house that marks the existence of Armin and his children: his daughter’s high chair, the muddy clothes from Andrew’s outside playtime sitting in a laundry basket, memories captured in photographs mounted along walls. Annie was released from her prison not two years ago and she’s already collected so much.

 

Wonder reignites in her overly livewire brain. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

 

A puzzled brow rides up Annie’s forehead. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

 

 “You’ve already conceived one child and you testified it was because you were careless.” She states matter-of-factly. “Why then did you willingly bear another?” She pauses. “You’ll die soon.”

 

Annie’s rocking stops. The slow roll of unyieldingly cold eyes makes its way to Mikasa’s mellow ones and she feels the air suddenly get brisk. The strongest woman alive knows she’s being rude but the Curse has been an unshakable fact gnawing at her mind for years.

 

Annie starts swaying her body again, rocking the baby whose eyelids flutter and mouth gapes as she slowly enters into sleep. “You’re not in my home for five minutes and already I’m being interrogated.” Annie whispers waspishly. “I’m surprised you waited so long.”

 

“You won’t live beyond another year.” Mikasa continues, unfazed and with a more solemn tone. “And you crumbled just from one of your children getting sick. Your daughter will be too young to remember you. Andrew might, but Anya won’t. The community despises you and won’t spare your children from the same treatment of you, even if they’re from Armin. How...can you cope with such a decision?”

 

Annie maintains her mute nature. She finds the top of her daughter’s blond threaded-head interesting and runs her thumb back and forth over the silk-smooth strands.

 

“Whether or not you respond is up to you.” Mikasa attempts to keep the conversation alive. “You have a choice now. I was only curious. I don’t...get it.”

 

Through the silence, the rashed youngling pushes her face into Annie’s neck. The sole Asian Eldian notices how comfortably Anya rests her head beneath her mother’s chin, how her small fists clutch her nightgown and makes a squeaking noise when her toothless jaw opens to yawn. Annie nuzzles the top of Anya’s head.

 

 “Having Andrew was the first time my carelessness turned something into a gift.” Annie answers so softly, Mikasa barely hears her from across the room. “I wanted it to happen again. It did.”

 

“And even though they won’t remember you, you won’t regret having them?”

 

For the first time in her life, Mikasa witnesses a smile—one shining of genuine warmth—lift Annie’s lips. “I don’t care if they don’t remember me.” She almost laughs out her sentence. “I’m not important. What’s important is they’re here and pieces of Armin will live on. Something of him _needs_ to live on, even if I can’t be here.” Annie peers over at Mikasa, her long lashes hanging over her eyes. “I’m sure you feel the same way towards Eren in that regard.”

 

Mikasa lifts her scarf above her nose, embarrassed at the implication. “Yes, but the difference is that I’ll live on.” She counters mournfully. “But you three...you won’t be around for much longer.”

 

Annie strokes her daughter’s fragile head. “Yes.” She finally agrees. “That’s true.”

 

They’d managed to not speak for five minutes. The wood snaps and crackles in the background as Mikasa sits, focusing on the warmth of her mug. The overworked cogs in her brain keep churning and she lifts her chin once a new resolve takes root. “Can I hold her?”

 

Thoughtful pink lips purse. Mikasa knows she’s pushing it, but she’s made it this far without being kicked out by a Titan’s fist. “I only know her name and I never held Andrew when he was taken from you.”

 

“And I’m supposed to take your word for it?” Annie asks dangerously.

 

“I’m not one to lie and Armin asked me to respect your wishes to not touch him. So, I didn’t.”

 

An electric storm courses through Annie’s blue eyes. Her face screams she’d be happy to say no, then she exhales and walks over, “If I see so much as one wrong move—”

 

“You’ll rip my arms off, you’ll eat me and solve the mystery of Titan defecation just for me—fine.” Mikasa fires back. “Just tell me what to do.”

 

Annie rolls her eyes, not appreciating having her own ridiculing attitude launched back at her. Annie removes the damp robe and shapes Mikasa’s arms to her liking before delicately resting Anya in the cradle the Ackerman’s arms make.

 

Anya’s warmth radiates through Mikasa’s shirt. She is quiet and breathes comfortably, chasing a dream beneath her fluttering eyelids. Armin was right to say she was adorable—red, butterball cheeks, long blond eyelashes, and a body so soft and frail, a fear stings at her temples that her Ackerman hold will hurt her or cause her to crumble. Annie keeps her hand on the top of her daughter's head though Mikasa takes no insult from the action; she figures it’s Annie’s way of telling her daughter she’s close, just like Eren tells her that through the scarf warming her neck.

 

“You’re right though.” Annie brings up in a quiet voice. “The children will know Armin, but once he’s gone...there will be no one to look after them. I think about that every day. They need someone to look after them, not be sent to an orphanage.”

 

The black-haired girl blinks before responding, “Hitch didn’t make the cut for godmother?”

 

The smile Annie wears is light and fond. “She looks after them well but she’s more of a fun aunt than a mother. Kids who come from me need someone who understands where I came from and know how to curb my more violent sides. Hitch will put a band aid on that rather than find the root.” She watches her daughter sleep before looking up at Mikasa. “But you won’t.”

 

Confusion breaches Mikasa’s calm composure. She isn’t sure whether to feel flattered or nervous.

 

“And _no_ , I’m not happy about admitting that.” Annie deadpans firmly. “So, don’t get cocky on me.”

 

The small laugh Mikasa makes sounds like an irritated exhale. “Is this your own way of cursing me? Right when I’m rid of you, you hand me two mini-Annies?”

 

“If that’s the way you want see it, sure. But you can live with another responsibility. You’re impossible to kill that way.”

 

The need to bite back at Annie bubbles up only for the urge to be snuffed out by an odd happiness rising in her, a kind she isn’t familiar with.

 

When the warm weight snoozing in her arms cuddles more into her chest, the front door creaks opens.

 

“Heeellllllllllllooooo!” A loud voice yells out.

 

The women look to the hallway as a series of shushes follows after the voice. “Mom or your sister might be sleeping.” A hushed voice insisted. “Now _quietly,_ let’s go in.”

 

“Oh! Okay. _Helloooooooo_?” The young voice sings out quietly.

 

Smiling, Annie shakes her head in tandem with the sigh echoing down the corridor. Armin turns the corner first, his smile warm towards Annie then becomes brighter at spotting Mikasa.

 

“Andrew, we have a guest.” Armin looks back and cheerfully introduces. “Come say hello.”

 

A three-year-old boy in a yellow raincoat quickly waddles into the living room. His wheat hair is protected by his yellow hoodie and upon spotting Mikasa, his large lakes of blue shimmer. “You came back!”

 

Mikasa smiles pleasantly, the feeling in her chest becoming warm. “You keep growing and getting more handsome each time I see you. Did you enjoy camping?”

 

Andrew tugs his hoodie down over his roman nose, hiding his blushing cheeks. “It was pretty and kinda smelly sometimes but I caught a fish! Well...Poppa caught the fish, but I put on the bait! It was thiisssss big!” He lets go of his hood and outstretches his arms as far as they can go.

 

“You told me where to aim too!” Armin promotes with a smile. “Without that, I wouldn’t have found the school of fish!” He walks to Annie and joins lips with her in greeting, lingering there for a while while Andrew sticks out his tongue and complains loudly, “Gross!”. Mikasa’s fine hearing catches Annie’s whisper through Andrew’s continuing storytelling. “Did it help distract him?”

 

“Only a little.” Armin whispers back. “He’s still asking where Eren and Sasha are. I don’t think he’s buying our story.”

 

Dismay briefly flashes over Annie’s face. “Hm, you brought another suspicious mind in our house. Isn’t this cozy?”

 

 Armin raises his thick brow mockingly, hinting Annie also carries the same trait, then turns his attention to his friend. “So, what brings you here? I wasn’t expecting you until-”

 

Focusing azure find the red dots peeking out from the lotion covering his daughter’s arms and cheeks. His eyes enlarge.

 

“What happened?!” Armin practically leaves a cloud in his stead when he zooms over. “Don’t tell me Hitch pinched her cheeks hard _again! My god_ , it’s her entire body this time. Annie! Didn’t you tell her to knock it off?!”

 

Annie explains with irritated, closed eyes that their newest addition is alright while Andrew rubs the baby pudge-cheeks his face showcases—apparently Anya isn’t the only victim from Hitch’s pincer fingers. The baby in her hold makes a displeased noise upon the commotion rising and instinct motivates Mikasa’s arms to start rocking.

 

“Anya was fine the whole time. “Annie jerks her head toward the taller woman. “Her godmother was looking out for her. She’ll be better soon.”

 

Mikasa almost tucks her face into her chest when Armin looks to her, his eyes sparkling like diamonds. His lower lip wobbles as he stumbles back like a drunk then shoots forward and lassoes his arms around Mikasa. “I knew you guys would eventually straighten things out. I just _knew it.”_

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Mikasa dismisses. She shifts Anya onto one arm and presses a hand against Armin’s chest to keep him from smushing her and his daughter; she gains a newfound appreciation for Annie’s skill in holding an infant in one arm. “I haven’t even said yes yet.”

 

“What’s a godmother?” The small boy tugs on Mikasa’s pant leg. “Does it mean you’ll be over more?”

 

Mikasa winces. If there was a power suppressor for Ackerman’s, hers would take the form of this young boy in a yellow, rubber outfit staring up at her with hopeful eyes. “It...it might.”

 

A loud peal of glee shouts out from Andrew as he jumps excitedly, his hands staying anchored on Mikasa’s pants. She glances over at Annie and is surprised to find her small smile holding affection, not a bitter emotion or jealously like she expected.

 

“Whatever you decide,” Armin rests her hands on his friend’s shoulders, smiling widely. “Thank you. I can always rely on you to help when any of us need you.”

 

Mikasa wonders if that’s Armin using his manipulative talents to indirectly sway her but she’s thankful all the same. She returns a smile to him as his hands fall away.

 

Armin carefully retrieves the half-awake infant from Mikasa’s arms. He bounces the small thing by her rump against his shoulder and shushes her soft whines. It’s a sight to behold for Mikasa, watching Armin as he hums, his daughter held closed and loved in his arms; Annie picks up her boy jumping for her and softly scolds him for his clothes beneath his coat being wet by saying, “You can’t swim in puddles for a reason” before drying his wet hair with a fresh towel. The grin pulling up the boy’s mouth is sheepish but happy and the embers warming Mikasa’s chest spread far enough to fill her cheeks.

 

She removes herself from the young family and exits the house to walk into the street. Home is not far from here—a block away from her two closest family members—and the rain and clouds have passed, allowing the clear, starry sky to show itself. A memory from a night like this befalls her.

 

_“It’s her devotion that worries me…” Mikasa voiced. She traced the outline of her clan’s symbol adorning her wrist. “No, it’s that she’s untrustworthy. She says this shogun clan we’re descended from is practically royalty. She calls me a key, I’m young and her time of having children is over. Who’s to say she won’t do to me what she proposed to do to Historia?”_

 

_Mikasa couldn’t see Eren’s face through the night’s darkness in the post they were stationed, only his black silhouette waiting for her to go on. She made a pained face. “I’m not afraid of her and I can take anyone easily...I just worry they’ll act on opportunity. There’s so much chaos to come. I couldn’t even protect you when Reiner took you away...I don’t want to be torn from you again.”_

 

 _A huff of breath shot out of Eren’s shaded nostrils. “_ You _worry_ me _Mikasa. You’re so smart but when it comes to me, your emotions keep getting in the way. You keep letting that happen and you’ll die.”_

 

_Mikasa bowed her head, emotion thickening her voice. “I don’t mean for it to...”_

 

 _A conflicted noise clicked in his throat. “I know you’re strong—you’re the most powerful, even above the damn world in my opinion. I just think to do everything you do for the sake of_ _me...I think it’s too much.”_

 

_The stunned soldier wished it wasn’t so dark so he could see her face. In her mind, it was Eren and his ambitions and loyalty to his friends that needed the utmost protection out of everyone else in the world._

 

_A hand fell on her scalp, the calloused softness of his fingers knitting through her hair. “You’ve spent your entire life worrying about me, Mikasa. Protecting me, Armin, and almost any innocent under the sun. It’s something I can never repay you with.” The green lanterns of his eyes were the only feature of him breaking through the thick darkness. “You should let me worry about that now.”_

 

_Green fire simmered into her solid charcoal and her heart slams like a sledgehammer inside her chest. She’s afraid to move, afraid that if she so much as makes a single twitch, his touch will retreat._

 

_“Eren, “Mikasa tried swallowing away the nerves shaking her voice. “You shouldn’t have to bear a burden like that all on your own. I told you that I’ll stick by you anywhere you go—I can share it with you.”_

 

 _“I can’t ask that from you.” Eren said, his tone regretful. “You’ve gone through so much on my behalf already—Armin too. I’ve always been so bullheaded and every time things keep slipping out of my control, I’ve thrown my anger on you guys and then I get so_ damn frustrated _that I…._

 

_The whistling wind was the only noise she heard for a time. The five fingers on the circumference of her skull descended down, cupping the back of her head and leading her into his firmly built chest._

 

_“Let me protect you now. You must be so tired after doing it all this time.” His chin drops down on her head. “If you died...I couldn’t live with myself.”_

 

Sobs Mikasa held in until she closed her front door shook her shoulders like a bad dry coughing fit, her fingers clawing down from her forehead to fist over her eyes. That was the Eren she knew — a compassionate man hiding beneath his callousness and pain — not a senseless monster or a savior of Eldia.  

 

Through her window, she sees the gated compound where Eren is held. Knowing he is there stops the flow of hot tears for a time but the chattering in her head chitters how Eren has little time left and Mikasa comes to find that Annie was right _—_ she wants a piece of him to live on. His passion and loyalty deserve to be remembered as the pure things they once were, whether it's through her memories or by a new playmate she wants to bring to Andrew and Anya. Her band of friends is on the cusp of dying, but may be their children could have a better chance of keeping together than their parents ever did, to be a trio in a new and better world.

 

“When did Armin and I become your prison?” She asks hoarsely. Her fingers touch the glass, aching for his touch on the other side. “I never cared about the freedom you wanted so desperately for us. I only wanted you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some inspiration from Posty's part in _Sunflower_ by Post Malone/Swae Lee:
> 
> I know you're scared of the unknown
> 
> You don't wanna be alone
> 
> I know I always come and go
> 
> But it's out of my control 
> 
>  
> 
> And you'll be left in the dust 
> 
> Unless I stuck by ya
> 
> You're a sunflower 
> 
> I think your love would be too much 
> 
> Or you'll be left in the dust 
> 
> Unless I stuck by ya
> 
> You're the sunflower 
> 
> I swear, I feel like I can never end my stories on a happy note. Please help, the endless suffering of snk has contaminated meeee.


End file.
